"I dare say our watchman has found himself a comfortable bed—"
"The slumbers of night-watchmen are notoriously deep."
"And Papa La Branche has finished his solitaire. There is no danger."
No one was in sight as they stole in through the driveway to the servants' door. She gave him her hand, and he pressed it closely, whispering:
"When shall I see you again?"
"After the quarantine. I can do nothing until then."
"You will go back to Oliveta's house?"
"Yes, but you must never come there, even in daylight." She thought for a moment while he still retained her hand. "I will instruct you later—" She broke off suddenly, and at the same instant Blake heard a stir in the darkness behind him.
Vittoria drew him quickly into the black shadows of the rear porch, where they stood close together, afraid to move until the man had passed. The kitchen gallery was shielded by a latticework covered with vines, and Blake felt reasonably safe within its shelter. He was beginning to breathe easier when a voice barely an arm's-length away inquired, gruffly:
"Who's there?"